Don't forget me
by BroadwayObsessions
Summary: How did Dmitry know that Anya is the real Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova? And how did Anastasia survive her family's execution? Six years after the imperial family's death, Dmitry and Vlad try to bring Anastasia back to her grandmother in Paris to earn the reward for her safe return. But will the young street sweeper Anya be accepted as the lost Grand Duchess?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Welcome to my first fanfiction based on the movie/musical Anastasia! It's also inspired by actual events and I researched a lot about it. I tried to make it as historically accurate as possible and put in some quotes and letters of real-life Anastasia. I'm probably going to edit it in the future. Hope you like it!**

 _St. Petersburg, February 1913_

It was cold. Snow was falling in St. Petersburg as Anastasia and Dmitry had a snowball fight in the backyard. When they had a pause, she asked, "Dmitry, do you want to go to a ball tonight?"

Dmitry's eyes widened. "Did your parents approve?"

The girl nodded in excitement. "Papa said it's okay. He would love to see you!"

"But I can't even dance!"

"Neither do I."

The 14-year old kitchen boy crossed his arms. "I watched you dance several times, and you're a great dancer."

"Wait, when did you see me dance?" She asked confused.

"Well, you shouldn't keep your door open when I'm around," he smirked.

Anastasia rolled her eyes.

"Anyways, I don't have any suitable clothes for a ball."

"We'll find something for you. I think Papa has an old tuxedo you could fit in."

"You don't have to do this for me. I'm sure I'll be needed somewhere during the celebration."

"No, I already settled it," she responded. "Come on, Dima! Let's have some fun! You deserve to be part of it. Olga invited her crush too, so I can invite you, because you're my friend."

Dmitry gave in. "Okay, if you really want it…"

Anastasia hugged him tightly. "But you have to teach me how to dance," the boy added.

"No problem. I'll meet you in the ballroom at 2 o'clock."

* * *

After Anastasia changed her dress, she went to the Alexander Hall to meet Dmitry. "Let's start our lesson!" She exclaimed.

"First, you have to put your right hand on my waist, and clasp my right hand in your left." He followed her instructions, but he didn't come too close to her, because he was scared of being caught dancing with the Tsar's daughter. "Come closer, I don't bite!" She said as she took position.

After they mastered the basic steps, they practiced the turns. "You're a good dancer," Anastasia remarked.

"You think?" He asked, looking down to the short girl.

She nodded. "And you learn very fast. We've been here for only 15 minutes and you didn't step on my feet yet!"

The young boy twirled her around, so that her blue dress spun round. "Okay, now we're ready to dance to some music!" Anastasia turned her gramophone on.

The girl could hear her friend counting quietly while she was dancing with him. "One-two-three, one-two-three ..."

Soon, they were gliding effortlessly around the ballroom. "What are you doing here, Dmitry?!" A thundering voice interrupted their dance. "Stop pestering Her Imperial Highness Anastasia!"

The two turned around and saw the angry cook. Anastasia smiled and said, "He isn't pestering me. I'm just teaching him how to dance. I thought we talked about it?"

"O-of course, your highness." The man bowed and left the hall.

Dmitry turned to Anastasia and asked, "Are you sure I won't get into any trouble?"

"Certainly."

* * *

In the early evening, Anastasia handed Dmitry a black tuxedo. "Papa said you can try it on. It has to be the right size." She walked up the stairs to her bedroom to change her clothes. "I'll meet you at the staircase."

Thankfully, Dmitry fit in the old tuxedo. He waited at the lower end of the Jordan Staircase to receive Anastasia. Suddenly, a man approached him. "Ah, Nastya gave you my old tuxedo." It was the Tsar.

"Oh, I'm sorry! She asserted Your Imperial Highness permitted it."

The Tsar laughed. "That is right. I don't fit into it anymore, so it's no problem. I have to say it suits you, young man!"

"Thank you!"

As soon as Nicholas left, Dmitry looked up the stairs and saw Anastasia standing there, beautiful, bright, and proud. His heart beat faster than usual at the sight of her smiling at him. The girl was floating down the steps as Dmitry's heart pounded faster and faster. The grand duchess was wearing her light pink court dress with golden ornamentation, a kokoshnik of the same color, long, white gloves and a red satin sash.

Dmitry reached out with his hand and led the princess to the ballroom. Hundreds of people were there. The ball's occasion was the tercentenary of the Romanovs. Out of all the women, the ones of the imperial family were the most outstanding guests. Not only because the girls wore their court dresses, but because of their regal appearance. Every one of the grand duchesses was pretty, although most people considered Maria the prettiest. Dmitry had to admit to himself that she was indeed beautiful, but something about Anastasia made her the most "normal" and loveable girl to him.

After the Tsar and the Tsarina shared the first dance of the evening, everyone else joined in. Dmitry bowed to his friend. "May I have this dance?"

"It would be an honor." Anastasia took his hand and they moved to the dance floor. The pair took position and started waltzing to Aram Khachaturian's Masquerade Suite. To Dmitry's happiness, they didn't have to change their partners. He was used to dance with Anastasia only, and it would have been embarrassing for him if he made mistakes while dancing with strangers. _Just don't mess up. You don't want to make yourself a fool in front of all the royalty! Concentrate._ The girl noticed his nervousness and whispered, "Calm down, Dima. You're dancing well, don't worry."

After that compliment, he was more confident – until the Tsarina gave the boy a death glare and said something to her husband. When the music ended, Anastasia took him aside. "Are you having fun?" She asked excitedly.

"Yes, I have!"

"What's the matter? I see it when you're concerned."

He sighed and whispered, "Your mother isn't happy that I'm here, right?"

Anastasia looked around to make sure nobody is listening and sighed. "It's not easy with her. She doesn't value ordinary people in general, so please don't take it personal." She fumbled about her pearl bracelet. "My father is completely different. He likes you very much!"

"I guess I should accept the situation that your mother will never like me."

"It doesn't matter to me if she likes you or not, as long as we're friends, but let us not think about that now."

Dmitry stopped talking because he didn't want to ruin the evening for her. "Let's continue dancing." He offered her his arm. "May I?"

* * *

After hours of dancing and talking, he escorted the young girl to her room. "Thank you for being with me tonight!" She whispered.

"I should thank you for inviting me to this ball. I really enjoyed it!" Dmitry responded.

"Good night, Dima."

The boy gently kissed her small hand. "Good night, Your Imperial Highness Anastasia."

Anastasia blushed and disappeared in her bedroom that she shared with her elder sister Maria.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Hello, I'm back! Warning: It's going to be a little brutal in the second half of this chapter. Descriptions of persons/meanings of words will always be in the end of each chapter (when it's necessary).**

The next morning, Alexandra blew up at her daughter. "Why did you invite this kitchen boy to our ball?"

Anastasia didn't think it would be such a big problem. "I asked Papa and he said Dmitry could come."

"But why did you ask your father? Why did you want him to come?"

Dmitry heard the conversation when he walked through the corridor to clear the breakfast table. "He's my friend," the girl responded, "also, you didn't care that Olga invited her crush too."

Her mother stared at her in disbelief. "Are you trying to tell me you're in love with this peasant?!"

"He isn't a peasant!"

"Please answer my question."

Anastasia glanced to Dmitry who was hiding behind the door which was a few centimeters open. _Please, Anastasia, don't say something wrong._

She gulped. "Not yet."

 _Oh, no! Why did she say that? Now her mother is going to hate me even more!_

"What do you mean?"

"I'm only 11. Why should I be seriously in love with someone?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? He's a servant, not your suitor! You deserve better. I tell you, if you end up with him, you'll bring dishonor to our family!"

"But I still can be friends with him," Anastasia contradicted.

"Why aren't you friends with children from our class?"

"His character is just like mine. We understand each other in a way."

"Do you see why I don't want you to be friends with him?"

"No."

"Alright," the woman took a deep breath, "I forbid you any contact with him. The same applies to your siblings."

"But Mama -"

"He has a bad influence on you. Perhaps, you can see him once a month, but only until you're 15. Then we'll find a suitable husband for you."

Anastasia was about to say something, but accepted it. At least she could see him once a month. Dmitry quickly disappeared in the Grand Duchesses' dining room before her mother left the bedroom.

When the woman was out of sight, he rushed into his friend's bedchamber. Anastasia began to cry. It was very rare to see her in this state, but now the moment came. And it wasn't just her great acting qualities, but actual tears of sorrow. Dmitry embraced her and caressed her strawberry blonde hair. "I'm so sorry! I didn't want you to get into trouble. It's all my fault!"

"It's not your fault," she sobbed into his chest, "It's my fault. I never should have said this to my mother. I'm so stupid!"

"No, you're not. You're the smartest girl I know and your mother just overreacted. But at least we can meet once a month."

"But only for three years from now on. Then she will forbid us to ever see each other again." The girl continued crying. Dmitry didn't know what to say anymore and kept holding her in his arms. He never wanted to let go. Anastasia looked up and suggested, "We can write letters."

"But how are we going to make sure we get them?"

"I have a plan. You know Anna Vyrubova?"

Dmitry nodded.

"We can give the letters to her and she'll deliver it. Mama only said we can't meet but there was no talk of writing letters!"

Anastasia stood up to get some note paper for Dmitry. "Here. If you need more paper, just ask me."

In the following weeks, they wrote letters everyday. Anastasia gathered them in her commode. When Dmitry came to visit her, he gave her the letters she wrote him so that they could collect all of their letters. When they would be older, they could reminisce about some special moments.

They kept writing until her stay in Tobolsk in the winter of 1917. Then she would write her last letter to him.

* * *

Although Anastasia's mother forbade Dmitry to ever see her daughter again two years ago, he followed them to Tobolsk and eventually to Yekaterinburg. The night after he arrived, he witnessed something terrible that he will never forget in his entire life.

It was around midnight, when the Romanovs were told to wait for the motorcars that will take them to a safer place, because the White Army was approaching. The family was led to a small room in the basement to gather for a picture by Yakov Yurovsky. But he wouldn't take a photo … The man who walked in seemed to be in his fifties and had a dark beard. They wanted to get rid of the "rumors" of the family's death. "In view of the fact that your relatives are continuing their attack on Soviet Russia, the Ural Executive Committee has decided to execute you," Yurovsky explained.

Nicholas turned to look at his family and then back at Yarovsky and asked, "What? What?"

The head executioner quickly repeated what he said, and then calmly pulled the Colt out of his pocket and shot Nicholas II directly in the heart.

Dmitry flinched as he watched the terrible scene through the windowpane. It was beyond his imagination.

The other eleven men were then told which members of the family they were to kill. Alexei was repeatedly beaten as he clawed pathetically at his father's coat. Yurovsky then shot the boy twice through the ear. Because of his hemophilia, he was the easiest to kill.

The Tsarina died almost instantly, mid-prayer, when she was struck on the left side of the skull.

Dmitry rushed into the house and down to the cellar, trying to help them. He knew it was hopeless, but he couldn't watch them being brutally murdered while he didn't even try to help them.

The girls had gems and diamonds sewn inside their underclothes, originally to hide their jewelry from the guards. Their executioners shot at them over and over but they still did not die because the bullets bounced off the gems. But then Olga was knocked backwards by the collapsing bodies of her parents. As she stumbled backwards, one of the bullets shot upwards through her jaw and shot her right away.

Tatiana was shielding her two younger sisters with her own body. Seeing Yarovsky approach her, she dragged herself to her feet to face him and was shot point-blank through the head. She died standing.

Although Anastasia and Maria had several bullet wounds, they were still alive. The two youngest girls were huddled in the corner of the room. Maria was trying desperately to claw at the doors in the hope of escape. Dmitry tried as hard as he could to open the door, but it was locked. The girls fainted in fear.

The corpses were wrapped in bedsheets and loaded onto a waiting truck. When the bodies were being moved, Maria sat up and screamed. The head executioner hit her in the face with the back of a rifle until she stopped screaming. He then stabbed and shot everyone again to make sure they're actually dead.

When the soldiers were called into Yurovsky's office and no one else was there, Dmitry ran over to the truck and carried Anastasia away. When he finally got to a hospital, he carefully laid her down and knocked at the door. He placed his hand on her heart to check if she was still alive. The lower segment of her body was covered in blood, her eyes were closed and she was white like a canvas. Dmitry would have taken her home to care for her, but he didn't even have a flat. Besides, the doctors and nurses could do their job better than him. The young man bent down to her and whispered, "Goodbye, my Nastya. I hope we'll meet again someday."

Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead, knocked again, and ran away as he heard someone coming to open the door. It was very hard for him to leave her, but he had to. If she survives, she would certainly come back to him soon.

None of them deserved to have a tragic end like this. Besides the Tsar and his family, four of their servants died with them. They could have at least been sent into exile. He has heard from Anastasia that her father's cousin offered them to flee to England. Why didn't they do it? He could understand why they didn't want to leave their homeland, but they should have known that their country isn't safe anymore! Nicholas has made mistakes and wasn't the best Tsar the world has seen, but he wasn't worth to be assassinated. At least Dmitry would still have Anastasia if he ever sees her again ...

 **Anna Vyrubova: one of Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna's ladies-in-waiting who was often on hoilday with the family and got along well with the children**

 **Nastya: short for Anastasia**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: I'm sorry for the many dead people in the last chapter, but I promise there will be no more in the story. Anyways, enjoy chapter 3!**

 _Leningrad, 1924_

The St. Petersburg Russia once knew was gone. The Bolsheviks promised the people a better life than they had when Tsar Nicholas II reigned, but it was, in fact, even worse than before. More people lived in poor circumstances and they didn't care about the poverty. Still, they talked about what a change they made and that times are so much better now.

After Dmitry got back to Petersburg, he became a poor con-man. He and his friend Vlad forged papers of all kind and stole goods which they sold on the black market. Since the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoe Selo was uninhabited, they lived there. It held a special place in Dmitry's heart. Not only was it the place that he mainly lived in during his childhood, but it reminded him of her – Anastasia. It has been six years since he last saw her. He wondered if she was alive …

"Have you heard of the rumors?" Vlad asked him while he was reading a newspaper.

"No. Tell me!"

"They say the Princess Anastasia may be still alive…"

Dmitry absently stared at the lambent flames in the fireplace. "What do you think about that?"

"I don't think it's possible that the poor girl survived. I heard it was a massacre. No one got away," Vlad responded. "But her grandmother will pay the one who brings Anastasia back, very well..."

"How much exactly?"

"Ten million rubles."

Dmitry snatched the newspaper out of Vlad's hand. He glanced through the article. "This could be our chance, Vlad!"

"And what are we going to do?"

The young man smirked. "We'll find a girl to play the part and teach her how to be a princess. Then we're going to Paris and present her to the Dowager Empress. Just think, Vlad! No more forging papers, no more stolen goods! We'll be rich!"

The two started preparing everything for the auditions. "How are we going to convince the old woman that our girl is Anastasia?"

Dmitry showed his friend a silver music box, initialed with an 'A'. "With this!"

Vlad looked confused. "And why specifically this?"

"Anastasia got it from her grandma for her thirteenth birthday. She _has to_ remember it!"

"How do you know that?" Vlad asked surprised.

"I worked here as a kitchen boy when I was a kid. I saw it in person. She often talked about how much she loved it." He thought back to the brilliant times of Imperial Russia when he would have a job, something like a home and at least two friends – Anastasia and Alexei.

"Did you say something? I'm sorry, I was somewhere else with my thoughts …" He continued gathering things that could be of use for their scheme.

Although Anastasia might not be alive because of her serious wounds, Dmitry still had a spark of hope that he might find her – his Nastya.

Two days later, auditions began. Vlad and Dmitry made handbills and soon many women got interested in it. They wrote their names on a list which was hanging at the gate of the palace. Dmitry felt like half of St. Petersburg's women were there.

The auditions were held in the reception room. All of the candidates were a disappointment. "Nice, very nice… Thank you. Next please!" Dmitry crossed the name off the list.

All hopes now rested on the last candidate. The person who walked in looked nothing like Anastasia - not even with a lot of fantasy. She took a deep breath and took her brown fur coat off. With a cigarette holder in the right hand, she rolled her hips and said with a hoarse voice, "Grandmamma. It's me, Anastasia …"

 _Was … was that a joke?_ Dmitry and Vlad stared at her in amazement. Vlad let out a frustrated groan and put his head on the table.

"Oh, brother," Dmitry sighed before crossing the last name on the long list.

Now, all hope was gone. He would finally have to realize she's not there anymore. If she was alive, she would have returned to St. Petersburg. But since she didn't show up today, she's probably dead.

"That's it, Dmitry! Game over. We'll never find a girl to be playing Anastasia!" Vlad exclaimed after they sent all the candidates away.

"Excuse me, Vlad. I need to be alone right now." Dmitry murmured as he made his way to Anastasia's former bedroom.

He took the stack of letters from the commode and sat down on the bed. He saved every single one of Anastasia's letters. They still smelled of violette perfume, Anastasia's favorite. On top was one of the first letters Anastasia wrote him. It included a photo.

" _I took this picture of myself looking at the mirror. It was very hard as my hands were trembling._ "

He had a smirk on his face while reading her message. It has already been 10 years since she sent it to him! To Dmitry, it felt like it was just yesterday. But he soon got to her last letter.

" _My dear friend,_ _I will describe to you how we traveled. We started in the morning and when we got into the train I went to sleep, so did all of us. We were very tired, because we did not sleep the whole night. The first day was hot and very dusty. At the stations we had to shut our window curtains then nobody could see us. Once in the evening I was looking out we stopped near a little house, but there was no station so we could look out. A little boy came to my window and asked, 'Uncle, please give me, if you have got, a newspaper.' I said, 'I am not an uncle but an aunty and I have no newspaper.' At the first moment I could not understand why he called me 'Uncle' but then I remembered that my hair is cut and I and the soldiers laughed very much. On the way many funny things happened, and if I shall have time I shall write to you our travel farther on._ _Goodbye. Don't forget me. Many kisses from us all to you my darling._ _From your loving Anastasia_ "

"Goodbye. Don't forget me," Dmitry repeated quietly. He will never forget her. The man cried rarely, but now he couldn't resist the tears.

Vlad could hear his friend weeping through the door. "Dmitry? Is everything okay?"

Dmitry didn't respond, so Vlad opened the door and saw him sitting on Anastasia's bed with the letter lying beside him and his face buried in his hands. The elder man picked up the letter and read it. "Did she write it to you?"

Dmitry nodded slightly.

"I didn't know you two wrote letters."

"We did. This was her last letter," he sobbed.

Vlad sat down in the pink armchair beside the camp bed. "I'm so sorry for you, my friend. We shall go to bed. It's quite late."

After Vlad closed the door, Dmitry wiped his tears away and said to himself, "I won't give up until I know you're actually dead. I will keep looking for you, and if it's the last thing I'll do." Then he looked at Anastasia's photo once more and left the room.

 **Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

"Hello? Is anybody home?" A woman's voice echoed through the entrance hall the same night. Vlad was sitting in the dining room with Dmitry. "Did you hear that?"

Dmitry slowly stood up to see who it was. At the end of the hall he saw a young woman looking into the reception room. "Hey! What are you doing here?" He yelled.

She gasped and started to run up the stairs and down the corridor. "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. Hold on!"

Finally, the girl stopped running. "Are you Dmitry?" She asked out of breath.

"Perhaps, depends on who's looking for me." She looked very familiar to him. He couldn't help but compare her to Anastasia. The same wavy, strawberry blonde hair, those sparkling cornflower blue eyes, this fine nose, these lineaments, the same voice – exactly like the Grand Duchess.

She rolled her eyes and said, "I need travel papers. I've heard you can help me."

Dmitry crossed his arms and walked towards her. "Hmm, so you need travel papers?"

"Yes, I'd like to go to Paris."

"Mhmm … Come with me." He led her to the study and took a piece of paper. She sat down.

"Do you want something to drink?" Vlad asked her.

"Yes, please."

Vlad sent Dmitry to get a glass of water. "This is not a soup kitchen, Vlad!" He murmured.

When he came back with some water, the young woman turned away and drank the whole glass in one go.

"Who are you?" Dmitry asked.

She turned around. "I don't know."

The young man nudged Vlad in the arm and laughed, "She doesn't know!"

"They gave me a name at the hospital. Anya." She didn't like how Dmitry laughed at her. "They told me I had amnesia."

Dmitry shook his head and sat down, putting his feet on the desk.

"The nurses said they found me by the side of a road. The first thing I remember is being in a hospital. It was somewhere near Yekaterinburg, I think... Anyways, it was about six years ago so I don't remember it exactly. Well, I don't know a thing before that."

Dmitry's eyes widened. _Could it be?_

"After they let me go, I walked across half of Russia to find out who I am, and I still don't know. But I believe the answers to all my questions lie in Paris. I have a feeling my family lives there – if I ever had one." He could hear how hard she tried not to cry while continuing on. She seemed to have went through a lot in those few years.

"Anya, do you have a home?" Dmitry asked her when she finished.

"No. I work all day, but I don't have enough money to rent a room."

"You can live here." Vlad offered.

 _What?_ Dmitry was confused. He couldn't let a stranger live with them! But on the other hand, she could be useful for his scheme …

"Are you serious?" Anya asked.

"Yes, you can live with us. There's enough room for three persons," Dmitry agreed grinning.

"Oh, thank you so much!" She exclaimed, tears getting into her eyes.

After they had dinner, Dmitry and Vlad led Anya to her room. In the corridor hung a framed photo of the Romanov family. "Who are they?"

"It's the Romanov family in 1913. From left to right: Olga, Maria, Tsar Nicholas II, Tsarina Alexandra, Anastasia, Tsarevich Alexei and Tatiana," Dmitry told her. "Have you heard of the rumors?"

"Sure, everyone has!"

"You kind of resemble Anastasia."

"Do you think?"

"I've seen thousands of girls all over the country and not one of them looks as much like the Grand Duchess as you!"

"Have you ever thought of the possibility that you might be Anastasia?" Vlad asked.

Anya stared at the picture. "It's kind of hard for me to think of myself as a duchess. But sure, I guess every lonely girl would hope she's a princess."

"Since you don't remember who you are, it is possible that you could be Anastasia. You want to go to Paris and her only family lives in Paris!"

The girl kept looking at the photo of the young Anastasia and touched it warily. "How old would she be now?"

"She would become 23 in June."

"We want to reunite her with her grandmother. Do you want to try it? If you're not Anastasia, it's just an honest mistake. But if you are the princess, then you'll finally know who you are!" Dmitry explained.

"Alright, I'll try."

Dmitry opened the door to Anastasia and Maria's bedroom. "That's your former bedroom. You shared it with your elder sister, Maria."

Anya looked around the room. "It somehow looks familiar to me …"

"Dmitry and I will teach you how to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia tomorrow."

"Meet you in the Mauve Room!"

 **I hope you liked this (short) chapter! Leave your thoughts on the story and tell me what you like/what I can do better.**


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